The Goblin male from earlier had the look of someone who hadn’t seen better days prior. Not only was he now more or less washed up and clean, he was wearing a fresh uniform issued from the quartermaster and it even had a name tag that read, “Borath.” There wasn’t much a shower and the quartermaster could do for his smell or his lack of hair, though, but he really didn’t have the room to complain considering. He was even supposed to reap his first paycheck tomorrow.
Despite all of Borath’s unexpectedly good fortune, his face was shadowed with a look of abject dread. He’d left the office early today, and fate had found him wandering the back roads and alleys for the better part of the last hour. Although he hadn’t been here but once before, the path he followed was seared into his memory purely by virtue of the adrenaline he had felt at the time. He was certain that, this far away from the main roads, guards probably wouldn’t arrive in time to help him if something went wrong.
All told, Borath was all too aware of his present situation since he’d eked out a meager living on the streets after his injury and discharge during the war. He’d made ends meet through whatever means he could find, and he found solace through the bottom of a liquor barrel or in a pouch of powder if he could afford it. That’s why he eventually decided to take on the more dangerous lines of work, and didn’t have many reservations against doing so. This time, however, was different. He wasn’t certain he could go through with it, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure what other choice he had. He’d already made the deal.
Finally, he arrived at the far end of a narrow alley. The drainage here wasn’t sufficient, so water accumulated in muddy puddles throughout the area. The wooden siding of the adjacent shacks was rotting, and dead vines clung desperately to the sides of them in a vain struggle to reach sunlight above. This had been where it had all begun for him.
Borath let out a breath and then recited aloud from memory: “We really should have an occupational health and safety council!"
“It took you long enough,” came the voice of a woman nearby.
If Borath squinted, he could just barely make out someone concealed in the shadows, but he couldn’t tell much more than that. The only thing he could observe was the scraping noise of someone who had been idly trying to sharpen a knife. “S-sorry,” he stammered.
The woman’s voice gave a dismissive grunt. “If you’d taken much longer, I’d have come to find you. Now then, what’ve you got?”
“Well…” Borath volunteered, rooting around in a new pack at his side. He pulled out a thick and bulky manual with pristine lettering on the front: The Flashbang New Employee Handbook: Your Guide to Lookin’ Busy. He set the book down on a rickety old table that had probably been a support structure at one time. It was halfway between himself and the voice, and then he backed away with a gulp.
A leather-gloved hand came out of the shadows to pull the book within, and after a short pause, the woman’s voice rang clear with displeasure. “What’s this tripe? I wanted intelligence- warehouses, operations. This tells me almost nothing.”
“I need more time!” he appealed in vain.
The woman’s voice gave a grunt. “You’ve got a week. If you want to get paid like we agreed, then you’ll have what I want by then. What’s the saying? Time is money?”
“Y-yeah…” Borath trailed off, looking down. If he was honest, he was starting to hate this more and more as time went on. He halfway played with the idea of just running away, but somehow… that didn’t seem like an option. He looked up to ask a question, and it died on his lips. “…hello?”
Nothing.
He let out a sigh. She was already gone. A wave of relief washed over him momentarily at the fact that this meeting had gone so much more smoothly than the last one. He’d feared for his life before, but this time, it almost seemed like casual business. Something about that, though, made his stomach turn over. He’d been in this line of work enough on the streets to know not to ask unnecessary questions, but the cold pit in his gut was screaming at him all the same.
With nothing more to show for it, Borath turned and left the way he’d come, with only the noise of his feet hitting the mud puddles to keep him company.
![:rofl:](https://d38bqls1q93fod.cloudfront.net/en/wow/images/emoji/twitter/rofl.png?v=6" ":rofl:")